#Late Night with Cry and Russ

[pear1escence]

Being Keegan’s girlfriend would entail…𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Keegan p. Russ x fem!reader - explicit

Being David Walker’s girlfriend would entail…

⭒ Late night car rides, driving around town with American oldies playing on the stereo, a cig in your hand nd his gaze shifting from the road to admire you every so often.

⭒ He’s not much for fancy dates, but he loves going out on walks with you. Strolling on beaches in the evening, loves it when you wear pretty skirts that flow with the wind. You might find a nice spot to put down a couple beach towels, share a bottle of wine and some home baked goods.

⭒ The warmth in his veins from the wine combined with your pretty face, he can’t resist kissing you. He’d pull you into his lap, his hand buried in your hair as he kisses you deeply, those delicious groans slipping from his lips as he does so.

⭒ Wouldn’t do beach sex. Sand getting everywhere, eugh. But in the car??

⭒ He’d have you riding him in the front seat, shirt pushed down, lips around your nipple, hands on your hips. He’ll bite just to hear you yelp. Can’t shut up either. He’s not shy of being vocal, groans a lot, the deep, sexy kind of sounds that has your stomach doing a flip.

⭒ Pretty average in length but his cock is thick as hell. Stretches you out so good. Hairy everywhere. Chest, thighs, nether regions. Yum.

⭒ Compliments you a lot, tells you just how pretty you look taking him so well, how good you feel. “Yeah, that’s it babe” “You’re taking it so fuckin’ well, doll” Curses a lot too.

⭒ Ok enough of that😾

⭒ He owns the comfiest, softest tees, the perfect ones to throw on in the morning with only a pair of panties underneath. You’d wear them a lot when he’s gone.

⭒ He thinks of you a lot when he’s deployed. Tries not to, he gets sad thinking of you alone.

⭒ Hugs you so deeply whenever he returns. Those comforting, safe hugs along with murmurs of how badly he’s missed you. Buries your head in the crook of his neck nd strokes your hair softly.

⭒ His heart breaks for you when he sees you cry. He’ll immediately forget about whatever he’s got on his hands. He’ll sit you down and wrap one arm around you, his hand lifting your face towards him as he asks you what the matter is.

⭒ Projecting my daddy issues onto this poor innocent (not) man very hard right now. Pls god I need him so bad

⭒ “Oh, my sweet girl” he’ll murmur, voice low and tinged with sadness, he’ll pull your legs over his lap nd wrap his arms round you tighter.

⭒ He’s very much not the perfect boyfriend, even though he wants to be.

⭒ He has his issues, struggles with PTSD which causes him to be very closed off. He hates opening up, sometimes it’s like there’s spiked wire wrapped around his throat when he tries.

⭒ He rarely seeks you out when he’s down. He can be very avoidant, scared he’ll blow up on you without meaning to. If he does come to you, he won’t talk.

⭒ He almost slumps up from tiredness, prefers it to be in your bed with your fingers drawing slow circles along his back, sweet words of affection nd loving kisses to his head.

⭒ He hates getting angry with you. The Ghosts are far from soft on one another, the rough atmosphere within his team has sometimes traveled over to you as well.

⭒ He’d never lay a hand on you. Never. But he has regrettably raised his voice at you a few times, when he’s really mad. The fear in your eyes causes him to pull back though, nd he’s quick to leave out of guilt.

⭒ He wouldn’t want you to worry for him, shoots you a couple messages about needing to blow off some steam before he takes a long drive to try and clear his mind.

⭒ He’s heavy with guilt and shame once he comes back, very soft with you in the days following.

⭒ You see the guilt in his eyes whenever he looks at you, hear it in the repeated ‘I’m sorry’s he gives you.

⭒ Why did I make this sad all of a sudden. I’m telling you I need to stop projecting my issues onto pixel men😞

I’m not gonna reread this so apologies for any misspelling, this has to be the first time I’ve posted in months?? I’ve been busy wasting time on stan twt 😖 Note - if you liked the angsty part towards the end I have a longer fic with a similar concept, ‘I miss what you’d do to me’

[narcoticv3nus]

© all work and content posted are the property of narciticv3nus 2024. It is strictly prohibited to alter or repost them under any circumstances. do not replicate or assert them as your own. refrain from endorsing my work on tiktok, wattpad, ao3, or any other social media platform. additionally, do not utilize my work for asmr purposes.

Good morning/afternoon/evening and welcome to my very first participation Kinktober 2024! I’m so excited to share my smutty fics with you all. I will be locking in and writing one fic for the next 31 days of October. These works are all nsfw so if you are not 18 and up please do not interact with my work.

Please check out my blog rules before proceeding.

If any of the topics discussed make you feel uneasy, please continue scrolling and refrain from engaging with content that makes you uncomfortable. I will provide warnings, but if I overlook anything, please inform me. It's perfectly acceptable if the content I share is not suitable for you.

That's all! Have fun, teehee.

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Day I: Be Good to Me — Arthur Morgan (Edging)

Day II: Burning Desire — Simon “Ghost” Riley & John “Soap” Mactavish (Threesome)

Day III: Lust for Life — Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Vibrator)

Day IV: Catch a Ride to Heaven — Arthur Morgan (Virginity)

Day V: Tomorrow is a Long Time — John Price (Masturbation)

Day VI: A Little Blood Never Hurt Nobody — John “Soap” MacTavish (Period Sex)

Day VII: All For You — Simon “Ghost” Riley (A/B/O)

Day VIII: Living Legend — König (Belly Bulge)

Day IX: Sweet Like Cinnamon — John “Soap” Mactavish (Praise Kink)

Day X: Beautiful People Beautiful Problems — Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Aphrodisiacs)

Day XI: In Love With a Hurricane — Simon “Ghost” Riley (Uniform)

Day XII: Let Me Love You Just a Little Longer — König (Overstimulation)

Day XIII: Under the Influence of You — John Price (Blowjobs)

Day XIV: Blue Is the Warmest Color — Keegan P. Russ (Lingerie)

Day XV: Too Late to Change — John Price (Cockwarming)

Day XVI: Crimson and Clover — König (Spanking)

Day XVII: Say You Want Me Too — John Price (Honeymoon)

Day XVIII: Every Man Gets His Wish — Simon “Ghost” Riley (Squirting)

Day XIX: Bitter Sweet Love — König (Degradation)

Day XX: Halfway to Heaven — John “Soap” MacTavish (Shower Sex)

Day XXI: Dancing With Danger — Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Sex Pollen)

Day XXII: Chasing Ghosts — Simon “Ghost” Riley (Hybrids)

Day XXIII: You Can Be the Boss — John Price (Dominance)

Day XXIV: Cherry On Top — Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Sensory Deprivation/Sensory Play)

Day XXV: Pretty When You Cry — König (Crying)

Day XXVI: Ride or Die — Arthur Morgan (Face Sitting)

Day XXVII: Living in the Afterglow — John Price (Aftercare)

Day XXVIII: Breathless Nights — Simon “Ghost” Riley (Bondage)

Day XXIX: The Sweetest Escape — John “Soap” MacTavish

Day XXX: Everybody Knows I’m a Good Girl Officer — John Price (Authority)

Day XXXI: Mirror Sex — Arthur Morgan

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[the-raven-lady]

(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 3]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Nocturnal Me - Echo & The Bunnymen  [YouTube] [Spotify] “Do or die, what's done is done / True beauty lies on the blue horizon / Who or why? What's one is one / In pure disguise of vulgar sons / Oh, take me internally / Forever yours, nocturnal me.”

Warnings: Getting tattooed in detail (needles and pain), vomiting / emetophobia, illness and recovery, mentions of violence and gore, cannibalism, food (and lack thereof) talks, partially unreliable narrator?

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you everyone for being straight feral for this man. It makes writing for him far easier. Thank you @mothiir for keeping me company as I wrote and happy late birthday.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual 

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender @historitor-bookshelf

The needle digging into your skin alternates between a carpet burn and the drag of a razor blade as the apothecary packs black pigment into your nape. Vibrations electrify your entire nervous system and tingle deep into your bones, sending all of your systems haywire. You lost the ability to hold yourself upright through the pain a long time ago, your master having simply pivoted and shoved you face-first into his bed when the iron grip around your neck wasn’t enough to silence your incessant whimpering. 

You ball your hands into fists and press them hard into your lap as an aggravated spinal nerve shoots lightning down your arm. The apothecary hisses in Nostraman, but the foreign words are lost to your pain-addled brain, too much blood whirring in your ears. The Contekar holding you steady digs his fingers into your jaw, the greater pain refocusing you and inadvertently soothing the ache in your clenched teeth. Your eyes blink open to his creased brow and tired eyes glaring at you in warning. You hadn’t even noticed the high pitched whimper leaving your throat with how focused you’d been trying to hold your breath, but it’s not a difficult leap in logic to realize that your tattoo artist was getting annoyed with the constant sound of a balloon leaking air.

The next time it happens is after you cry out from a stab to a particularly tender area above the spine, and both parties were substantially less polite about it. The apothecary lifts the needle from where it bore into you, and you don’t even have the time to catch your breath before someone kicks your chair and spins it round. The next thing you perceive is total darkness and the inability to take a full breath, as well as an immovable force preventing you from lifting your head back up. Your entire body tenses up as the needle once again makes contact and angry vibrations rattle down your spine.

Gentle wipes of a cold cloth against the entirety of your nape jarringly signaled the close of the session, temporarily calming the constant burn. What felt like an eternity had at most been three hours, but by the end your entire body was exhausted. You were dehydrated and nauseous, trembling from adrenaline and low blood sugar. Your limbs were torn between desperately needing to stretch out and being completely uncooperative. 

On legs of jelly, you slowly stagger up out of the chair and lift your face off of the bed, firmly planting your hands into the soft mattress to stabilize yourself. Moisture from where you had been crying stains the blanket and your cheeks. Disorienting static buzzes within your head.

The apothecary is packing up his cart, tossing used supplies into a bag on the side and putting the used needles in a rigid case with an occasional clink, clink. You squint as you notice a scarlet ink cup on the tabletop, not remembering when that had been poured despite trying to pay attention at first. The terminator and apothecary exchange quiet words in their native tongue before the apothecary pulls a tub of… something from one of the cart’s many drawers. The terminator accepts it with a scoff, shaking his head in annoyance, and puts the object next to his ornate armor. 

The back of your neck is lit up like a severe sunburn, curling around the edges of your traps and up behind your ears. Turning your head from side to side gives no glimpse of the new ink (but it does remind you of how stiff your body is). Whatever substance had been put on top of the tattoo is greasy and warm; you guess it must be there to protect the fresh wound.

The creak of the door opening and closing alerts you to the apothecary taking his leave, dragging the cart out behind him. The terminator gives the room a once over, then turns his black eyes to you. Your brain is too tired to react to the weight of his gaze at the moment, clouded by adrenal buzzing, and you feel the corners of your lips quirk up as you meet his stare. The slivers of white in the corners of his eyes make him look like an overgrown dog.

He huffs and looks away, sitting back against his table and grabbing the tub of whatever from earlier to read its label over. The way folds his arms over his broad chest conceals several of his larger chest ports, and you wonder why they’re placed along his body in each specific location. Questions for another day.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself moving in the direction of the bathroom. Each step is messy and uncoordinated, feet dragging, but you manage to not fall over as you push yourself off of support of the bed. Getting tattooed so close to the head must be making your brain do spirals. Head warm and floaty, vision dreamlike and unfocused. Everything simultaneously feels better than it ever has and dreadfully wrong, but you can’t find it within you to care. The world has never been so ethereal.

You jump as you recognize the face in front of you. When had you gotten to the mirror?

Craning your neck to the side, you catch sight of the red and black artwork wrapping around your neck. Inflammation has set in over the entire area, an angry flush from head to chest. The thick black outline of a bat wing curves down from behind your ear to the top of your shoulder, packed with crimson. Red waves and spirals flow along its webbing in cascades. You turn fully to your side and drag the skin of your shoulder down to see the rest of it.

Subtlety was not considered for this design.

A skull sits between the bat wings along your spine, perfectly aligned with where the vertebra of your neck meet those of your back. Above the skull sits two symbols you don’t recognize: one in the shape of a cross, and another like a rotated ‘F’. You’ve seen similar script on some of the older Night Lord’s armor, but you never inquired about their meaning before. Whatever they are, they likely serve some function beyond purely aesthetic.

A sudden warmth overtakes you. Your hand slips from its perch on the oversized sink basin, and you nearly topple over, just barely catching yourself in time as a wave of vertigo washes over you. Alarms ring in your ears, tinnitus deafening everything around you. The grey tiled floor begins to swirl, churning tides at your feet that double and triple. Dull throbbing pounds from the inside of your skull. 

The only warning you get before the contents of your stomach paint the surface of the sink is a furious twist in your gut. You violently retch the remainder of your last meal, coughing and sputtering sour yellow chunks off of your tongue. 

You meet your own bloodshot eyes in the mirror as your legs begin to give out, clutching weakly at the sink to keep yourself upright. A sheen of sweat coats your face, cheeks flushed despite a sudden pallor to the rest of you. Each breath you take is labored and intense, diaphragm screaming at you for oxygen you can’t seem to get. 

What is happening–? You try to speak but the words won’t come out, tongue too large for your mouth. Am I dying–? 

The slam of the door is the only thing that reaches your fogged brain, and you sluggishly turn your head to meet it. Shadows crawl in from the opening like licks of dark smoke.

Everything tunnels around you, and a sharp sting of blinding white floods your vision.

Soft. The surface is soft, warm. 

You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so comfortable.

The heavy blanket around you anchors your sore body down, faux fur and minky sending little prickles up your arm as you brush your fingertips against the fabric. You must not be in your spot on the floor, unless your pillow had grown three sizes from the last time you checked. 

Honestly, you couldn’t tell if it did or not. A heavenly glow basks the room around you, hazing the edges of your vision. 

The tattoo had killed you— it must have, for why else would you be so at ease? This couldn’t be the Nightfall. 

An angel walks into your view, a vast colossus of perfection. Its form radiates with light, grey eyes dotting along its body in random locations that all seem to stare right at you. You’d dare call it beautiful. Gingerly, you reach a hand out towards it, hoping to share in its magnificence.

The afterlife wasn’t so unwelcoming after all.

Elias swears if you grab his leg one more time he’s going to tie you to the chair and leave you outside for the vermin. For the tenth time he swats away your hand, trapping it against the edge of the bed. He pushes away the blanket covering you to check over your weeping tattoo as the apothecary instructed. His eyes hone in on the subtle beating of your heart, capillaries expanding and contracting as lymph tries desperately to carry away the astartes blood in the ink. You haven’t died yet, which is a positive; it would reflect poorly on his abilities and reputation otherwise.

Your frail little body treats him like an infection. Elias had heard you vomit from the bathroom and surged in just in time to watch your head slam into the metal sink as you collapsed. There’s still a yellowing bruise on your cheek from where it had impacted, but the deep purples and reds have dissipated. He couldn’t remember a time when he was so delicate, even as a human. 

…however long ago it had been since then. The Night Haunter had only just been found by the Emperor and joined forces with the Imperium at the time Elias became a neophyte. 

You give a pathetic whine at his touch, and it grates him. It’s as if Apothecarion Rathal had tattooed the intelligence straight out of you, reducing you to a groveling ape and no more. Your skin was perpetually damp and perspiration soaked into the fine linens of his bed sheets, which made them reek of you (did you not understand how difficult it had been to acquire those?). You moan and hyperventilate in your sleep, demanding his attention away from the responsibilities you had shirked in your illness.

And now it was his responsibility to care for you? Absurd. Still, the human medicae would surely do no better than he could. It was bad enough that he can’t even use his own bed during this extended downtime because you’re in it.

It isn’t as if he hasn’t tried, but it’s difficult to focus on his own activities when every few minutes a sick human is trying to clutch onto you like a child in need of comforting. 

First, he had been attempting to clean off the plates of his armor while you were unable to do it for him. Elias sat over the edge of the bed to avoid getting any of the flakes on his expensive spread, when your needy little hands had snaked around his waist and pulled at him. “No,” he had scolded, pushing you off, but your foolishly feverish mind wouldn’t take that for an answer. You redoubled your efforts, forcing him to move to his far less comfortable chair to finish. 

Second was after a brutal training session. Elias had worked himself nearly to collapse, pushing the limits of his underfed body. He returned to his quarters drenched in sweat and exhausted, ignoring your sleeping form as he walked past you to take a much needed shower— he didn’t subscribe to the filth of the rest of the Eighth, taking more pride in his image and heritage than the lowly degenerates that had recently populated it. Dried and clean, he pushed you as far to the side as he could before taking up his spot in bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh.

Only to wake up to you snuggling against him.

His back had begun to ache from the amount of half-sleep spent in his chair to accommodate for your needs. If you had been any less diligent at your job, Elias would have already disposed of you like the rest. 

The previous serfs he’d acquired had proven inadequate. Some would beg and cry to him for their freedom— freedom, as if he had not offered them a better life than they ever could have hoped for on this wretched ship. Others had damaged his armor or belongings, which infuriated him to no end. You at least seemed to know your place and understand the magnitude of the gifts he had given you, even if it had taken multiple days for you to use the pillow and sheet he provided for your floor spot at the foot of his bed.

He may not have kept you around at all if one of his useless younger brothers hadn’t been present in the armory he found you in. 

Elias had just returned from a six month long campaign on a noncompliant feudal world, utterly ravenous and annoyed. The fleet had stopped supplying rations to the squads weeks prior as ‘encouragement’ for them to finish their mission faster. The casualty rate had shot up as a result of the ration cuts, each Night Lord left to fend for themselves. The civilians and guardsmen stood no chance.

Elias had already never been given proper portioning for his body size to begin with, being larger than the majority of his legion by a substantial margin. He left most meals hungry, but he learned how to make up for it in his own ways. 

And there you had been, crying in the corner against a storage locker as his brother cornered you in while spewing ridiculous notions about gutting you. There had been two priorities on Elias’s mind at the time: have his armor refreshed so that he would stand out amongst his squad, and have his belly filled. How kind of his brother to so willingly volunteer for slaughter, getting in his way as he did. Elias had been craving such a protein-dense meal for ages.

You had done an admittedly excellent job cleaning his helmet as he ate. It brought him something akin to happiness that you were intelligent enough to shut up and just work, leaving him to his devices. He was almost grateful he wouldn’t have to devour you. The chances of finding a serf that didn’t question or cry about every little thing were slim.

Speaking since his lip had been torn a half-century ago brought Elias no short amount of annoyance. Sharp consonants like F’s, P’s, and S’s would catch on his lips, causing them to whistle and lisp. It was even worse in Gothic than his native dialect of Nostraman. Eloquent speeches and curt words were softened by the reality of their vocalizations, and over time Elias decided to speak only when necessary to avoid the stress.

He wasn’t ‘self-conscious’ about it. He doesn’t get self-conscious. That was only for the weak minded, and Elias is not weak.

The jar of antibiotic balm has gotten warm in his hand. Deftly unscrewing the lid and dropping it aside, he hooks a dollop onto his finger. The apothecary made it very clear that the tattoo had to be kept moisturized and coated to protect it and have it heal properly, and Elias wouldn’t settle for any imperfections in the design. He had overseen the entire process from start to finish to assure the outcome was as favorable to him as possible. The best tattoo artist, the finest supplies, the most reliable machine, everything. He wouldn’t skimp on the recovery process no matter how difficult you intended to make it.

The terminator kneels down on the bed and rolls your head to the side once more to apply the ointment, diligently spreading it over every exposed inch of the tattoo. The process would go so much more smoothly if you would stop nuzzling into the hand holding your head like a damned kitten. He needs to use both hands to lift the back of your collar up, but your complete inability to stay still and let him work stalls the process. 

An annoyed grunt leaves him, and he sits back to glare down at you. Your eyes are half-lidded and unintelligent when they meet his, and you give him another useless smile. Never learning your lesson, you lean forward to rest your head against his knee, letting out a deep exhale at the contact. It’s ridiculous, the basal creature you’ve become.

But it also puts you in the perfect position for Elias to finish his work. He supposes this is fine if it means you’ll cooperate with him, and he allows himself to relax. He’s only taking advantage of your weakness.

He hooks a finger into your shirt and pulls it away, working the balm down under the fabric to make sure the entirety of the tattoo is coated, rolling it an inch farther out than necessary in all directions in the event you smudge it. He relinquishes your collar and stares down at the runes between the wings. On a whim, he scoops up another small dollop of the salve and focuses more attention to the area. He would prefer his claim on you be clear if nothing else, and no part of the tattoo was more important than his name.

Content, the Night Lord pulls the blanket back over the area and reaches for the lid of the jar to close it.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He stops at your words, returning his gaze to where your cheek rests on his thigh. Your eyes are cloudy and red, pupils dilated so large they nearly envelop your iris. The look is almost pathetic, so reliant on him for your needs.

You have been since he chose to keep you. Unable to stand up to any of his brothers and most other serfs before. You could not find your own clothes, find regular sleep, or find consistent food. Elias had so generously made up for that, providing you new garments and a safe place to sleep, and you still tried to leave at first. Perhaps if you had just spoken up about your needs, he would have known you were hungry sooner. Taking the finer foods the Imperium provided to the remembrancers had been tantamount to stealing from children. No one dared stop him from entering their hall and commandeering what he saw fit to nourish you.

He has now sacrificed his bed for you, but at least it is visible how grateful you are for it. It stirs an odd fluttering in his hearts that makes him grimace.

“Elias.”

Your eyebrows knit together as your obtuse brain thinks loud enough to hear each cog within whir. Are you always so transparent?

“Pardon me, my lord?” you reply, unable to piece it together yourself. Perhaps he has given you too much credit.

With a sigh, he responds, shaking his head. “My name is Elias.”

A light enters your eyes for the first time in a week, a modicum of intelligence coming back to you. The adoring smile on your face widens to a full fledged grin as if you have just been given all of your dreams in life. It would be impossible for another human to look more reverential than you do in the moment, face pressed against him like you’re venerating a god.

If you could purr, Elias swears you would be.

If he still could, he might be too.

And here's the tattoo you got. Hope you like Night Lord Tribal!

They say bold will hold for a reason. Unfortunately for most serfs, it doesn't have to hold very long. I overlayed it on top of some skin tones so you guys had a better idea of what it looks like on the skin.

I debated doing the entire Fenty Beauty shade range but the time sink was high, so here are 18 common shades. If your skin tone isn't on it, feel free to send me a picture and I'll throw the transparent tattoo on top of it :)

[littlemissclandestine]

Russell Adler Comfort Hcs pt.2

What America's Monster would be like if you weren't feeling 100% (a continuation of this post)

He's very observant meaning he'd pick up on any changes to your body language. How you are avoiding eye contact, seem a little more distant and distracted lately and are a lot more sluggish than usual. It's scary sometimes how he knows your little habits and trends in behaviour.

He'd make you your morning coffee/tea just how you like it, without a word spoken

Adler usually gets you to go on a long walk with him to clear your head. He'll surprise you and take you to a lovely scenic spot too -> "Right that's it. Come on, on your feet. We're going for a walk, sweetheart. Fresh air'll do you some good. I know a good spot. You'll love it. Promise."

He'd let you treat him like a punching bag. He takes those punches in the chest like a champ but he pulls you into a hug, squeezing you until you finally give up, drained of energy from crying. He's never the first to let go.

He cooks you a good ol' hearty meal he knows you love.

Or he asks you if you'd like to bake with him. You both making an absolute mess of the kitchen, making poor Russ wash up since it was his idea but he lets you off

Russ lets you join him in the shooting range/gym late at night if you can't sleep. ->

-"Hope you're not planning to sit there all night, sulking."

-"No, of course not."

-"Show me what ya got then, tiger." *winks and hands gun to you*

Breakfast in bed and him running a bath for you? Hell yes.

He wants to make you smile and he knows one fool proof way of making that happen. He'll get on top of you and kiss you all over until you giggle uncontrollably because of how ticklish it is.

I feel like this man would be the best at giving life advice given what he's gone through, what he's achieved etc.

Adler is the type of guy to pull up a chair and sit next you on the porch out front, lighting a cig and offering you one too and then proceeding to have a really deep conversation with you out of nowhere, whether that's about why you're upset or not . He's good at it. I know he hates small talk.

But just him being there to distract you from whatever you're feeling is nice, even if it's temporary

You might get the occasional dad joke that's hilariously bad but those are reserved for those close to him

Or he might tell you a funny story about himself. Nothing too embarrassing. He's got a reputation to maintain after all

But he'd most definitely remind you of all the times you've gotten through stuff like this before and how you can always come to him, no matter what.

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: How you see your appearance vs how other people percieve your beauty 🤍

Please feel free to leave a tip $$$

"I see your true colors shining through. . . And that's why I love you 🌈"

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

Platform Shoes by Slayyyter

Splish Splash by DreamDoll ft. Cupcakke

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Ace of Water, The Emperor, & Seven of Water "Illusion"

You are just tooooo cute, Pile 1 💞! Literally the embodiment of sugar, spice, and everything nice. I feel like you are a very cute and adorable person. Your appearance could be feminine and clean. I'm thinking of the pink, coquette aesthetic. I also see glossy lips, nail sets, and long eyelashes (you could wear extensions or need to go get them filled in again). You see yourself as gentle and caring. You may think you are fragile or dainty? Or resemble characters from those 2000s movies or you remind people of a novel love interest. Your style could be either soft, mcbling, or y2k, possibly a mixture of them all. You could use like childhood movies, stuffed animals, or shopping for comfort or as a coping method. There is also something unique about your appearance, perhaps you have beauty mark, freckles, a crooked tooth, round cheeks, etc. You have something that makes you stand out! Which is really cool :D! How people percieve your beauty - they think you are unreal somehow? They think you are like "Hollywood star" beauty. Even though you are not "perfect" it makes you likeable and relatable. For those who have a social media influence or popular regarding to their school, hometown, etc. Some might even wonder if you had plastic surgery done. Also for those wondering if you'd look good with plastic surgery - yes you would! I'm not seeing anything too extreme as regards to plastic surgery but for those who like the "bimbo" look they could totally rock it. Or you are able to transform yourself with makeup. People who identify as more masculine or men find you so attractive. You could be popular amongst mascfems, studs, or men who are comfortable with their masculinity. It's giving "my girl can wear whatever she wants because I know how to fight". For any men reading this 🥰 I feel like people are so in awe or you! Like you would be the prettiest man anyone has ever seen in their life. (Clarified by The Moon. Faking It by Sasha Alex Sloan). Aw you really are a sensitive person deep down, pile 1. I feel like not many get to see you when you are down or know about the late nights you stayed up crying. You may have had your heart broken before or had your heart broken by someone more than once (I'm so sorry :(!). I feel like when you have your moments of depression or feel sadness you feel really self conscious. So you could use makeup as a mask to cover to what you're feeling down. You don't have to fake a smile or portray being happy, baby. Try to practice some self care and focus on your inner beauty when you feel deep down. Spend time with a trusted friend and tell then what's been on your mind. Practicing affirmations and mirror work can also help past wounds. Take care of that precious, tenderheart of yours my little carebear 🐻!

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

I Am Who Am (Killin' Time) by Mac Miller ft. Niko Randa

Wake Up by Logic ft. Lucy Rose

Wife You Up by Russ

King of Fire, Adjustment, & The Sun

Pile 2, I feel that you are a natural beauty! You're not one for wearing lots of makeup or styling your hair too much. I see that you just really like to be comfortable. For how you view yourself, you could really like your facial structure :)! Your cheekbones might be defined or you have a nice jawline. On a typical day to day, your everyday style would consist of your hair pulled up into a ponytail or bun, wearing sweats, or a t shirt and jeans. You could also be a hard worker or your job requires you to have shifts early in the morning. For some of you in this pile, you could work in a café and make coffee, tea, boba, smoothies, or anything to do with drinks. People at your job love coming to you because you give great customer service. Also they see you as "girl/boy next door type". A friendly, good citizen. For how others percieve your beauty - they think your features are balanced and harmonious. Perhaps your face is quite symmetrical or your beauty feels familiar. You also have a very radiant smile or your laugh could be unexpected! You are a very bright and charming person ☀️! (Clarified by Four of Earth "Stability". Baby Girl by Chloe x Halle) I feel that you have been putting off a dream or haven't been paying attention to your inner child. pile 2. What have you done for yourself lately? You should take a break and focus on doing some fun activities to take care of your spirit. You are very generous towards others but seem to neglect your own needs sometimes! Try to go for a nice walk or be in nature, it'll do you some good! Also don't be afraid of being silly, you don't have to be so serious all the time. Perhaps doing volunteer work at a children's school or museum could let your playful side come out to play. Your inner child also wants to do some coloring or dancing. For some people in this pile, leap frog could be significant or a favorite childhood game 🐸.

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Stretch You Out by Summer Walker ft. A Boogie Wit da Hoodie

Masquerade by Siouxxie Sixxsta

Test Drive by Ariana Grande

Two of Earth "Change", Nine of Water "Joy", & Nine of Earth "Gain"

This pile is very specific. I'm seeing dark hair, dark eyes, and fair to medium skintones. Your hair could be straight and black or dark brown (some of you have dyed your hair a wine red). Your eyes are almond shaped and your eyebrows are arched. If you identify as feminine, you really give off like 2014 ig baddie vibes, pile 3! Some of you could be black, Hispanic/Latin, or Southeast Asian descent. I'm reminded of those tiktoks of girls doing "chicana" makeup, so that could be how you like to do your makeup. For the fellas, you could have nice eyebrows, and a moustache that compliments your full lips. I feel very strongly that you have Scorpio, Sagittarius, or Virgo in your big 3. For how you view yourself, you don't like to stick with one look, you are always changing up your appearance 😂. I feel like when you are sticking to one thing for too long you're like "ugh I need to dye my hair" or "I need a new tattoo". You always have a different style. You like to switch it up every now and then. For how others see your beauty, they see you as very abundant! You may wear high quality jewelry (diamond earrings, gold necklace, etc.), luxury brands, and expensive shoes (some people here are sneakerheads 👟). They could admire as well that you're generous with your wealth and you could do a lot or provide for your family. (Clarified by Four of Water "Comfort". Again by P-Lo, E-40, & LaRussell). Some of you could like to party?! LMAO. In my card there is otters here and I feel that you have a group of friends that you hang out with on a daily basis. Some of you could like to go out clubbing and enjoy drinking alcohol? 😂 You usually have to be responsible in your family but with your friends you get to be the one who can be reckless instead. There's something about a car so if that doesn't resonate with you, either you or your friend take turns being designated drivers. Be careful when driving, pile 3! Have fun rolling with the homies 🚗

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

Unique by Miliyah

Smoke Weed Eat P*ssy by Ängie

Roof by Rico Nasty

Four of Fire "Perfection", Ace of Earth, & Four of Air of "Truce"

Pile 4, you are really confident in yourself! I'm seeing that you don't really care what other thinks about how you look and live to please yourself. Your style could be alternative, you have bangs, and your hair has layers. Perhaps you have a mullet, curtain bangs, or a feathered layers. Some of you have your hair dyed with highlights such as green, blue, blonde, etc. For your makeup, your eyeliner could have a thick wing, or you have a signature smokey eye look. You could also like to have wear faux freckles or you have actual freckles. Your lips could often be seen with black lip liner and a signature cherry red lipstick. You could have piercings, I'm seeing specifically a septum piercing, snake bites, or gauges. There could also be a tattoo on your shoulder, forearm, or back, even possibly a sleeve. There could be Aries, Taurus, or Aquarius in your big 3 as well. You could also be apart of the LGBTQ+ community. How people perceive your beauty is that you have a tough exterior but deep down you are a calm and peaceful person. Which is interesting in comparison to your appearance. Your aura is comforting and nice to be around :D! (Clarified by Six of Fire "Success". Falling for U by Peachy!, MXMTOON) This is so cute 🥺! So there is someone who secretly has a crush on you or you have some secret admirers. Possibly someone in your friend or group you interact with on a daily basis. They are super shy around you and wish they could tell you how pretty/handsome that you are ☺️. If you already know who this is and feel the same way, perhaps encourage them a bit or flirt with them so they could confess their feelings 💞 (*sniffles* I ship 🤧😍)

Pile 5:

Shufflemancy -

Use Your Heart - Interlude by SWV

Love You Down by Ready For The World

Freakend by Megan Thee Stallion

The Empress, Ace of Water, & Temperance

Okay Pile 5, I know this is tired and old but... Mommy? Yes. Mommy? Yes. I cannot 😭 Some of you could give off milf vibes and you know this. You are either mature for your age or this pile is for my ladies in their 30s and up (It's giving "Damn Ms.Parker finer than a motherf*cker, I'd knock the dust OFF that p*ssy!" 😂😂😂). This Pile is very feminine and sensual. Your body could be very curvaceous 😏 body shaped like a figure 8 fr. Your lips could be plump and kissable as well 😚. If you identify as a masculine (either pronouns, style, gender, etc). You are just a very beautiful man. You could possibly get babied by the female figures in your life lol. Perhaps you have older sisters or a lot of women in your family. You just appear as the people would say "written by a woman". You could like to wear long flowy dresses, heels, cardigans, blouses, etc. Some people here could love the 80s/90s aesthetic. I'm visualizing somebody with big fluffy curls. Also you could attract partners who are younger than you or crave someone who is maternal in their life 🥴. (Clarified by The High Priestess. So Much More by Xaiver Omär) For how people perceive your beauty, you are down to earth, and just naturally stunning. You could have a good heart as well and possibly do some sort of service for the community. You could be great with kids or love animals as well. Religion or spirituality is significant in your life. So your devotion to God or your faith in the spiritual realm is admirable. People find you wise and want to gain knowledge from your life lessons. I feel that some of you may worry people only consider you just a pretty face with a nice body but that's far from the truth. The people who do appreciate you think you are so kind and memorable to them. Also if you ever feel insecure or lonely, your spirit guides want you to know how much they love you. So if you ever need someone to comfort you in a time of need, call upon your deities, angels, etc.

Pile 6:

Shufflemancy -

Girls by Kid Cudi ft Too $hort

Single by The Neighbourhood

겨울 탓 (Winter) by SAAY ft. Woo

The Tower, Eight of Earth "Circumspection", & Ace of Air

Trigger warning

This is interesting. So Pile 6, I see that your appearance actually makes you feel stress or turmoil at times. You could be really self conscious about how you look. For some of you, you could have experienced some sort of traumatic event, or had an injury which drastically caused for you to change. For example, you could have burn scars, large bruises, etc. Some other messages coming through that your self image is warped due to experiencing some sort of abuse (either from a partner, bullying at school, etc). I am really sorry for everything you're going 🥺! I wish you healing and hope you can grow to learn to like how you look. Just know that what other people said or done to you is never your fault and just projecting their own self hatred and insecurities onto you. Now to talk about your physical traits that stand out. You have wavy light brown hair, brown to hazel eyes, and textured skin (sun spots, freckles, wrinkles, etc). For how people perceive your beauty, I see you have some supporters who find your story very motivational. People in your family know the hard work and the steps you took in order to survive and they commend you for it. This is a selective message for only of a few of you but your ancestors have been with you since the beginning of your journey. In this card there is a family of elephants, animals who are known to never forget. Your guides want you to remember the people who did you wrong but also learn to not hold grudges because it will hinder your growth. Practicing journaling, shadow work, and using prompts could help improve your self esteem and provide clarity as to why you have such negative thoughts about your appearance. Also maybe asking your loved ones what makes you beautiful could you help a boost of condience. (Clarified by Mother of Earth. Glitch by Buddy ft. Tinashe) I feel as you get older, you are going to appreciate yourself, your life, and the lessons it had for you. I'm even seeing as you age you will look even more beautiful! One day your will develop wrinkles in the corner of your eyes and see gray hairs at your roots but you will find yourself to be happy about it. Gratitude is a big thing here. The reason why it's because you have to think about not many people live a long life so the fact that you will be blessed to do that, is amazing! Also for some of you I could see that you will look into manifestation. Perhaps you will use law of attraction, subliminals, or affirmations to work on your confidence and feeling more beautiful. You will start trusting your intuition and experiencing "glitches" in the matrix. You will see life doesn't have to be so hard or always be difficult, there can be wonderful moments as well.

Pile 7:

Shufflemancy -

January 28th by J. Cole

AMERICAN GURL by Kilo Kish

EARTHA by Jamila Woods

Six of Air "Knowledge", Five of Air "Conflict, & The Hermit (reversed)

Pile 7, I feel that you are just now acknowledging how beautiful you are! Perhaps you went through a period of being a wallflower or were very shy. You are coming out of your shell and taking steps in embracing your beauty :D! Awesome! Your appearance could be very ethereal. I'm getting that you have features that stand out and you are beautiful with an eclectic style. I'm reminded of like a alien or stars in the galaxy (some of you could be interested in starseeds, sci-fi, or conspiracy theories). This message could be only for some but there was either a friend or ex partner that you had in your life that was jealous of you. They would put you down so you wouldn't feel confident in yourself (Yuck! What a hater 🙄). This caused you to feel self conscious and out of place but now you are taking back your power. You are realizing this person was just projecting their own issues onto you. If this person is still in your life, I highly advise that you cut this person off! They don't wish to see you happy or succeed. I am sure you know who this person is as well. (Clarified by The Star. Vamp by Father ft Tommy Genesis) Oh yeah this person is gonna be fucking miserable 😂. You are gonna experience a huge glow up, Pile 7! I feel like this person has been giving you the evil eye and your spirit guides are not playing that shit. They are gonna get what's coming to them for trying to dim your light and sabotage you. The energy vampire will be gone 🧛🏽‍♀️! You are going to be healing your self esteem and from the past wounds people have inflicted onto you. You get to shine bright and be the star that you are my lovely, pile 7 🌠 Congratulations!

Pile 8:

Shufflemancy -

BIBI Vengeance by BIBI

Icy by Kim Petras

Do You? By Troyboi

The Magus, The High Priestess, & Mother of Air

Pile 8, honestly you are cool as fuck 😎! You could be a model or into fashion, if not, you totally should to start pursuing something along those lines of a career because you have such a chic aura! I'm seeing that you could have sleek hair, slanted eyes, and a prominent facial structure. I'm being reminded of models like Sora Choi and Anok Yai. You could have cool toned skin and wear colors that contrast well with your undertones. You have almost like a ice queen/king presence. People could be intimidated by your presence or find you very intriguing. You could have a popular social media presence or would be eventually be big on the internet. I believe you are aware that because of your appearance it could be marketable or know your looks could attract financial wealth. For how others perceive your beauty; They consider you mysterious, smart, and strong. (Clarified by Two of Air "Equilibrium". DICTATOR by REI AMI.) I'm being reminded of Azula from The Avatar: The Last Airbender. She was raised to be a weapon by her father but was just only a teenager. She began to crack under pressure and suffered a mental breakdown in the dual with her brother Zuko and Katara. You could have a duality to yourself. On the outside, you are stoic and regal - but deep down you could be sentimental and nervous. You could be nostalgic about some things in your life and possibly worry about if you are making the right decisions. Some of you could have parents with strong expectations as well. Please don't be so hard on yourself, pile 8! It's okay to make mistakes for that is how we learn. I know it can be scary to be vulnerable but try to let others in and get to know you for the real you. You could have a avoidant attachment and often doubt others when they try to show their love for you. You don't trust many people and either stay alone or only have a few close friends that you adore. I'm seeing also that you are artistic and have a strong work ethic. For some of you, you could have anxiety, which affects your mental health. Try to pick up a hobby to help calm you down or ease those racing thoughts of yours. Being in nature, socializing with animals, or going to a art class could be helpful or significant to some of you.

Pile 9:

Shufflemancy -

Press Your Number by Taemin

Deja Vu by ATEEZ

Pretty by FAKY

Daughter of Fire, Ace of Fire, & Wheel of Fortune

Omg pile 9, you are my hotties 🥵😍!!! You know you're the shit and nobody could tell you different (period!). You really have the mindset of being the "main character" and live life to the fullest. You could have short hair, buzzcut, or part of your head is shaved while the rest of it is long (Word to Doja: "Lost a lil' weight, but I ain't never lost a tushy. Lookin' good, but now my bald head match my 🐱"). You could also have a prominent nose, plump lips, darker skin, piercings (eyebrow, nose, or lip? Possibly all 3!), and a tummy pouch (you could have a belly button piercing too). Some of you could be proud of your booty or like to twerk, don't matter the size 😂. You wear bangles, crystals, waistbeads, and gold hoops. As for your style you dress like it's summer all the time. You could wear tube tops, crop tops, denim shorts/capris, baggy jeans, flip flops, and sneakers. You could get compliments a lot and be told that your style is "fresh". For how people perceive your beauty, they think you are lucky, blessed, and a joy to be around! I'm getting a vision of someone rub their hands 👏🏽. So people want to rub off some of your luck. NSFW but some people want to feel up on you 😂. They think your skin looks radiant and soft or want to touch your curves/muscles. (Clarified by The Sun. Going Off by P-Lo) Idk why I'm hearing "Step outside hoe. Step outside!" 🤣 You are enjoying your freedom and letting loose. You could be the type of person people always see on social media traveling places or partying. If any of you still live with your parents, y'all are stressing your mfin' parents tf OUT 😭💀! You could have to sneak out or lie about where you're going with a cover up outfit just to go places. You get away with a lot though because of how much they love you 😮‍💨 I'm getting some of you could be the youngest child. Your family think you can be a knucklehead but they love your energy and you make them laugh and smile during the hard times. Also this could be a message for a select few but some of y'all need to stop getting into fights or arguments 😭! Please learn to pick and choose your battles lol. Make sure to handle your substances responsibly (Mary Jane by Rick James came on so if you guys like to smoke weed or drink alcohol, be careful of your surroundings 😅!).

[cmncisspnandmore]

Masterlist

Last Updated: 5/28/2024

Fair warning to anyone who reads some of the series on here, a lot of them are unfinished, I started writing them years ago. I may go back and finish some of them, i may not. If there is a series you find that you enjoy that is unfinished let me know!

ALL FICS ARE FEMALE READER UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED. (I am more than happy to write all other kinds of readers, I fully support LGBTQIA+on this blog.)

One Shots

Spencer Reid: Stir Crazy Alone Late Nights Bothered Dr. Reid? What Should I Reid? Bookworms (Male!Reader) You're Dating Who?! Home Silent Moments Turned Tables

David Rossi: Homework Pile Up (Daughter!Reader)

Aaron Hotchner: Ruined (Platonic!Reader) Soothing Voices

Series

Spencer Reid: Mistakes Were Made; 1,2,3,4 Boy Wonder and Family Prequel; 1,2 Boy wonder and Family; 1,2,3, Don't Let Me Go; 1,2,3,4,5

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Dean Winchester: Baby Mine

Sam Winchester: Living Blood Bank S'pise

Sam and Dean Winchester: Without you

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Simon "Ghost" Riley Don't Own Me Bittersweet Troublesome Feelings

Keegan P Russ Brothers Best Friend

Series

Poly!Task Force 141 All Hands On Deck, 2, 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley One Night Stand: 1 ,2,3,4 5,6,7,8

Captain John Price Coming Home To You: 1,2,3

Blurbs

Simon "Ghost" Riley Faking his own death Money Teenage Daughter Simon hates seeing you cry, "Yeah i think you're hot," Not Coming Home

John "Soap" MacTavish Hopeless Flirt Coming home from a long mission Sundresses and Sorrow

Simon Riley X John Mactavish X Reader Dad!Simon and Dad!Johnny, missing gear.

Captain John Price Tarmac and Tears

Requests

Simon "Ghost" Riley Body Image Freckles Control

Headcannons

Oneshots

Stiles Stilinski Study Breaks

Series

Blurbs

Headcannons

[bitchb0ybunny]

Brand New City

(Keegan P. Russ x Reader)

COD men are my roman empire, PLEASE SEND ME ASKS IM BEGGING- I NEED SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT SO I CAN GET OUT OF MY OWN SKIN (this is a cry for help, I'm supposed to be focusing on finals but I cant get these scrunkly ass military men outta my head, so enjoy this spew from the depths of my sleep deprived mind..)

Keegan wasn't sure how he got here.. One minute, he was fighting Federation soldiers alongside Hesh, Merrick, and the Walker brothers and now he was... God, where even was he right now?? It was dark and cold.. He still had his mask, tactical gear, and weapons, but it was like he had been transported to an entirely new goddamn universe.

The city looked clean, it was something he wasn't used to. The Federation had destroyed everything years ago, back when he was in his late 20s or early 30s, he couldn't quite remember, but this place.. It was completely spotless, besides the normal city trash and critters wandering the dark alley he found himself in. He definitely did not miss this air quality, he had only been wherever here was for less than 5 minutes and he was already feeling like his lungs could collapse at any moment.. But the more he stands here, confused, the more.. Familiar this gets. Cautiously, he steps out of the alleyway he was in, ending up on a city street lined with shops that twinge with familiarity for reasons unknown to him. The sidewalk was empty besides himself, and the street was mostly empty besides a few cars that drive by every five or so minutes as he walks down the pavement in a random direction- the direction that just felt right. He didn't know where he was, but being a Ghost for most of his life has gotten him to trust his gut no matter what.

And he does just that.

He heads in whatever direction he feels like he's supposed to go, turning down side streets and such whenever he feels like he's supposed to, it's.. Almost concerning how his gut knows this city but his mind doesn't. Everything is in-tact, theres no destroyed buildings or cliffs that clearly hadn't been there when the roads were paved and parking garages made, it looked like a city from before the Federation bombed the States.. Had he gone back in time? No, no, that's not possible. Had he died? Was this his version of hell, or maybe heaven? How did he even get here?

He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

It took about two hours of walking until he stopped, suddenly the feeling of familiarity vanished and everything was so unfamiliar that it made him feel sick. Made him feel like he was going to vomit all over the pavement.. But then a jingle of a bell rang out as a door opened across the street, voices rang out in the night as people bid each other goodbye and went on their separate ways. The sounds of talking and jingling didn't seem to help curb this feeling of sickness, uneasiness, in fact the voices made him feel worse. He felt dizzy, his vision was spinning and he couldn't stand right, whatever was making him suddenly feel ill was getting worse. His legs gave out beneath him, and suddenly one of the voices from before got louder.. The last thing his vision managed to focus on was an all-too familiar face, the face he saw in his dreams and the face that haunted his nightmares, staring down at him with an all-too familiar concerned expression that made his heart clench.

It was you. You, who had become one of the many casualties caused by The Federation the day they bombed the United States. You, who had plagued his mind for years. You, who he kept a picture of on his person all the time so they could be with him all the time. You, who loved him dearly, even with your last breath.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

For the ask game: 7, 9, 18, 19, 29 💚

thank you!!!!! excuse the fact that most of the songs will probably be russ ballard.

7. a song to drive to:

well, i don't drive. but if i DID. wait, let me think. well i just love listening to any music in the car, as a passenger. but i feel like driving would be the same for me as other things, like if i'm working on something or doing chores, i love having music to focus on while doing it, lately usually something with a story or a meaning to think about the whole time. i can still do what it is i'm doing, but i have something to also get lost in at the same time.

i... am trying to think of a specific song that would fit, but there's so many where i'm like "i could easily imagine myself driving and getting lost in this song". okay i'll just go with one of my favorite songs in general and because i'm imagining what it would sound like in a really good car sound system. your time is gonna come by russ ballard

9. a song that makes me happy:

oh my god SO MANY. but right now, i'm gonna go with just like me by russ ballard. this song somehow took away a large portion of my social anxiety and fear around interacting with other people.

18. a song from the year i was born:

okayokayokay. (why did russ's the seer album have to be released in 93 instead of 92) i'll go with this one: heart and soul by robert hart

19. a song that makes me think about life:

almost everything that russ ballard has ever written. especially the book of love album. okay wait i have to pick one. OKAY i'm between at least two, the song book of love annnnd in to the light, both by russ ballard(of course) but i guess i'll go with in to the light. the lyrics are some of my favorite lyrics ever(i will shorten them a bit):

"The door of the cell is open (x14)

Clinging by my finger tips Just every night and day For a refuge from the ghost inside This crying, waiting, yearning, longing For a sanctuary But I know that from myself, I cannot hide This plane of darkness Has been my house, my home Through the years, except for tears I've lived there all alone

In to the light In to the light From the dark in to the light I've been searching for the light to find a way When in my head, something said What are you searching for Just turn around, you'll see an open door You can walk from the dark in to the light

In this mad confusion, the maze inside my head It's been my cell, but I'll break down the walls There's a peace that's coming and it's not so far away Letting go of love has been the price I pay I've been clinging to the bars For the glimpse of light outside When if I'd only turn around, the door is open wide

In to the light In to the light From the dark in to the light I've been searching for the light to find a way When in my head, something said What are you searching for Just turn around, you'll see an open door You can walk from the dark in to the light

It's as though we were prisoners Straining at the bars for the light And looking for the glimpse of light that we see out there And wondering how we could get out towards it While actually, the door of the cell is open behind us If only we would turn around We could walk out into the street

The door of the cell is open (x8) "

i think about these lyrics like every day of my life now. (and the lyrics to book of love too. and more from the album. i love the whole album forever.)

29. a song that i remember from my childhood:

i could list a bunch of songs by sweet because they were my first band obsession ever, but i'm actually going to go withhhh a country song that made me cry when i was little when i was listening to the radio and coloring pictures. don't take the girl by tim mcgraw (i made the mistake of listening to it again and i can confirm the story still makes me cry)

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

And Lilith Sewed the Seam - Sapphic Short Story

The frost came early that year, the year the Queen of Night came to Karelia. We lived in Sharon, a little shtetl in Grand Russe on the Finnish border that was known for its beautiful alpine aerials and lakes like beads of blue glass. The ocean, too, was refreshing to swim in – provided one went to the banya afterwards. I was a young lass in the rime-laden harbors and forests. We Jews of Sharon were a sailing, seabound lot, making our living off fishing and the waves. But mama, bubbe and I? We were seamstresses of the finest caliber. Some would say we were magick. They called us, and our shop, The Weaving Wives.

The boyars ordered traditional kaftans straight from bubbe’s shop, woven with the earth goddess Mokosh and her lovers Veles and Perun on the breast. I had grown up toeing the line between two faiths. I learned both the myths of Baba Yaga eating unworthy children and the Night Howler Agrath screech-dancing on the roof to mark a house that her husband, Sammael, would strike down as dogs bayed at his twelve-winged flight. Sometimes, late at night, I could hear them.

Or perhaps it was only a storm…

Word of bubbe’s and mama’s and my craftiness spread. The year I turned sixteen, the tsarina herself ordered a fashionable cape from us. It was based off the tale of Father Frost’s granddaughter, Snegurochka the Snow Maiden. A tale I had always loved. It was the first project over which I was given complete ownership.

I embroidered white, pale pink and dove gray pearls on the powder blue cape in little clusters of wings shaped like snowflakes, then stitched eiderdown into the golden seams. Bubbe dusted it with malachite flakes to bless it from far off Azov, the riches of the earth piling high upon the tsarina’s head.

Mama, bubbe, and I were the treasures of Sharon. We were married to our thread, the men and women of Sharon said, and they—from the hunters to the midwives to the rabbi, to my own father, a ship captain and whaler—guarded our secrets with their very lives.

We Weaving Wives were a protected, cherished lot. And our craft was our very soul. There was a deep magick in that sewing. For in truth, we were good witches. We could summon sunlight to make yellow fabric like a peach. Melt down rusalka hair in our oven to create the finest threads. Our secrets were the stuff of legends, and we were glad not to tell the rabbi about them, or even dear papa. And the menfolk knew better than to ask, but the women always wondered.

The cape was the talk of the kingdom.

No wonder, the tsarina was pleased.

As fame of our clothing grew, the Weaving Wives gained esteem. Through charitable works we lifted our community up and filled the synagogue coffers to the brim. Our family did good works in Adonai’s name. All so that Peniel – the Face of God – might shine down after the three of us wrestled long with a hill of fabric, like female Jacobs and a needle-bound angel.

But the frost came early the year I turned eighteen, and it stole my bubbe away. Crying tears like glass beads, I looked into my mirror after shiva was over and found myself a changed maid: my long black curls were winsome, I was plump and rounded to please men, and my cornflower eyes could break hearts. I needed a husband. Only… the village maidens had always been far more winsome.

Fair Shayna, with eyes like silver coins. Comely dark Miriam, with a heart like a thorny rose. And Delilah, the marigold of my garden. I had tossed and turned with all of them in the fields and furrows on Ivan Kupalo, what the Western countries called St. John’s Eve, as we searched for fern flowers together to promise bonds of eternal love. Shayna’s lips were soft. Miriam’s grip on my hot hips was hard, determined, just like Malakh HaMavet striking only holy blows.

But Delilah? She was mother-of-pearl dissolving in Cleopatra’s wine. A beauty wrapped in a carpet, delivered to Marc Antony.

I wanted Delilah more than life itself. But Shayna and Miriam had already taken husbands. We were eighteen, after all. Only Delilah, with her red hair, pale skin, full form, and freckles, was left, and to me, she was more holy than any synagogue, a word on the tongue of G-d that would make Chava take an apple all over again, but this time, a blessed fruit. Delilah was a pearl of great price that could redeem. A benediction and wonder that would lighten the load of the Azazel goat on Yom Kippur and set the Temple right.

So, that night in my anger and mourning over losing bubbe too soon, I looked into my mirror, in the flickering light, and I cast a magick spell. I made a wish on bay leaves and some goldenrod I had dried earlier that year for Delilah to be mine. As I was threading the bay leaves through a needle, to string them over my dresser, I pricked myself on my thumb.

A bead of red delicious blood bubbled up. Suddenly, the mirror swirled into a gorgeous Ashkenazi royal woman with long black ringlets of hair done up in silver bands, a purple wine-dark dress with gold threading, yellow-green eyes like parched grass, and pale, ghostly skin. Her bruised pink lips were bloody, and there was hunger in her eye.

“Pu pu pu!” I said, warding off the demon, frightened. I clutched the red thread always tied to my bandeau and threw salt at the mirror. It sizzled as it hit the candle, putting it out. Then, silence.

I had not a day before the Queen of Night came to Sharon. She was the talk of our little shtetl, rumored to be disgraced Romanian royalty who had bathed in maiden’s blood and newborn calf spittle to retain her youth. She was old, she was young, she was invisible, they whispered. Dressed head to toe in a black veil, riding in a carriage like a hearse. It was pulled by black bulls, and scarlet, bloody-colored ribbons were woven round the black bulls’ necks.

Just like the blood from my thumb.

Lailah, she was called. I was so lost in fear of her, I did not hear the clinking of bells at our shop. Bubbe was gone, Delilah was not mine, and I was haunted by a ghost.

I was manning the shop till, daydreaming about the demon. She… had been beautiful. Lailah was said to be hideous. To be virginal and pure. To be a vampir or dhampir or G-d knew what! Only, this Romanian countess or ghost or queen had come to my shop, now, smelling of lavender and patchouli. She had been watching me, and I felt like I was drowning.

A musk radiated off her that reminded me of eating dinner between Delilah’s thighs.

Suddenly, Lailah let her veil and robes fall, and the demoness from earlier in the mirror stood naked before me, perfect as a pale statue of Dark Venus, brimstone the farthest word from her.

Her eyes were a poisonous, mesmerizing yellow. Her pubis was lightly thatched with slashes of black, her sex an enticing pink wound. She seemed to be carved from alabaster, her legs ending in owl’s feet, great sooty wings on her back, and a night storm cloud of ebon ringlets framed her sharp, small and upturned nose and wicked ruby-grapefruit lips.

“Lilith?” I squeaked. I did not have it in me to “Pu pu pu.” To reach for metal or iron or salt. To even clutch my red thread.

I knew immediately that if this beautiful, treacherous Queen of the Night asked, I would be her slave. I would be a dog in her yard, licking fruit off her feet, honey off her lips. All to taste… majesty. The divine.

She demurred, smiling to reveal needle teeth that only heightened her beauty. “You have grown beautiful, Jael.”

“Oh. No. I, Lilith, with all my pleading, please, flee this place. We are holy. Adonai shall smite you. And you are too beautiful to suffer,” I said, rambling, not making sense, soaking in Lilith’s beauty, her temptation, her smirk, the way her thick hips and ripe breasts swayed as she walked towards me slowly, like a leopardess stalking its prey.

“But, if I flee, you will be nothing. An adamant bloom plucked too young to thrive. You have all the talent of your bubbe Abigail, and all the strength and industry of your mother Bina. There is a reason our faith is passed on through women, Jael. You are the perfect vessel.”

I froze. “You mean to possess me?”

Lilith narrowed her yellow eyes at me. Oh, how I wanted to reassure her I was not scared. And yet, I was. Highly terrified. The Witch of Endor was in my shop, and darkness filled the corners, Sheol the depths of the yard; the windows were blotted out by the realm of husks. It was only Lilith and I at the axis mundi of the worlds.

“No, I mean to pay you,” Lilith laughed in a sultry tone, then quickly softened. “I have need of a dress for a ball Ashmedai is throwing. Ashmedai and Sammael are both my husbands, but they are at war as of late. I need to dress for battle. For the manner in which I fight, and who I choose as consort, shall determine the course of Kingship in Gehenna.”

My jaw dropped. “Like the Maid of Orleans?”

Lilith smiled. “Dear Jael, I have been at this for millennia longer than any Frenchwoman. Now, this I must ask you: can you make me a ballgown the color of a mirror, that reflects all it touches, that can withstand hail and hellfire? If you do, you will be wealthier than the tsarina. As you know, the Shekinah often rests with Sammael, and as the Shekinah’s Handmaiden, I ascend to G-d in turn. He lets me do what I like, you see. The world, for me, is freedom. As I mean it to be for all women, Jael. Your namesake certainly agreed. We had plans, Jael and I.”

“The girl who drove a tent spike through her enemy’s head?” I piped out, voice squeaking yet again. I nervously chewed my hair, then spat it out. “Yes, I can make a dress like that. But I do not need riches. Just Delilah.”

“Lilah. Delilah. She is similar, yet nothing like me. A seal, then, of our bargain?” Lilith leaned against the counter and kissed me, deep. “Yes, you taste just like Jael as well. She was one of mine, you know. Perhaps… but no, Jael. Let sleeping Judges lie.”

With that, Lilith disappeared, and the pale, ghostly light of winter trickled into the shop.

I reached for the red thread on my bandeau and snapped it apart, welcoming the demoness in.

For the fabric, I captured moonlight in a jar. I made it slitted at the train, so Lilith could stride across the burning floor of Ashmedai’s ballroom like the Queen of Sheba did to win Solomon’s heart. I wove the bodice of form-fitting silver silk, loose and dyed from rain under the morning star. Do not ask how the Weaving Wives work our magick. We simply do. It was in bubbe’s blood. It is half in mother’s blood. And I?

I surpass them both.

I wrote Delilah a letter that night. A letter to come room with me. It did not say much other than “bosom friend” and “bubbe’s room is empty” and “mama and papa are leaving for America, so it shall be just us, and I could use a shopkeeper.” But I sprayed perfume from Moscow on it, kissed it thrice, and slipped it in a pink bow and thick sturdy envelope into our hiding tree. An alder.

Delilah wrote me back: “If your gown for this cursed queen goes through, then you will have proven to me that a woman can love a woman, like a man loves a woman, and Jael, I do think… I must not write it.”

There were tear stains blotting her delicate signature.

I cried that night. I stitched Lilith’s seam. I used bat wings boiled down to the finest veins to protect the dress from hellfire. Then I crushed the bay leaves of my witchcraft, when I met Lilith in the mirror, into the fur capelet of mink. It was my heart’s treasure. My greatest wish of all.

And finally, a hilt for a dagger, bejeweled with malachite from Mount Azov. It was sacred in Russia, from one Mistress – the Mistress of Copper Mountain – to the Queen of Night.

Lilith came the day after Sabbath.

She tried it on, the silk bunching around her in pleasing, curvaceous angles, the embroidery and pearls and malachite and mink sparkling, and she shone like the tsarina’s silver tiara.

Lilith smiled in the mirror: “It’s perfect, my Jael. Come walk with me.”

Into her dark midnight carriage with the four red-banded black bulls I went. We rode to Gehenna. What I saw would frighten Enoch himself. Dumah, at the gate, with his poisoned sword of gall. Hazarmavet, the Court of the Dead, where new souls ate meat and drank wine in perfect silence. The winnowing of souls in the fire of Sheol with the punishing, purifying angels. A glimpse of Gan Eden and the Silver City where the angels lived, attending the Promised Messiah. It was all like a crack in the sky.

Finally, Ashmedai’s realm. A realm of exotic desert fruit and pleasure girls and winebearer ephebes. Hot searing heat, simoom winds, oases and belly dancers. It was scandalous.

Sammael’s forces of death, poison and decay camped at the door. I waited in the carriage as Lilith walked on French heels to the forefront, her dagger held high, her dress that I had painstakingly, feverishly sewed gleaming under the hot desert sun.

Lilith’s beauty sparked Sammael’s shedim and lilim and seirim into frenzy. They descended on Ashmedai’s forces as the demon king emerged from his glistening sandstone palace with his forces, dates and palm and rivers of jewels surrounding us on all four sides.

I watched as Lilith turned the tides of the battle, flirted with Ashmedai, lured Sammael. In the end, Lilith took both Ashmedai and Sammael’s crowns as they kneeled and kissed her hands off their heads. She melted the coronets down with fiery breath from her beautiful lips, then formed two gold arm bands for her pale limbs.

It seemed Gehenna had a new ruler.

I am old now. Delilah is my bosom companion. I talk to Lilith in the mirror, late at night, I am aged, Lilith is ageless, and she tells me tales of the world: the invention of electricity. War in America. Discoveries in Asia. How her plans are in motion to free women, so one day, we are not so tied to the cycles of our womb, forced to labor in birth pangs like Chavah.

Delilah and I adopted three girls, and we teach them the secrets of weaving, sewing, and stitchery. We are bringing the crafts of our shtetl into a new age. My parents died in America and seemed to have prospered. I have no intention of leaving Karelia. We are the exclusive gownmakers for the new tsarina.

It is a good life. It is a small life. Lilith and Adonai shower riches upon our community – not too much, but enough that Sharon is known as blessed. The Shekinah still roosts with Sammael, and will until the Temple is set right, and Her people ascend.

I am happy all my days. So is Delilah. When we die, we will be led by Lilith the Perpetual Regent of Gehenna to be her personal weavers and outfitters, and our daughter’s daughter’s daughters will know true freedom in the modern age.

And all because Lilith sewed the seam.

[where-did-the-groove-go]

Boulder show report: Sparksblr Edition

Pre-show shenanigans... I bought The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman at the record shop that was a few blocks away from the venue. My mom was actually cool and helped me recreate the day's tour photo. Conversation topics with my neighbors while waiting for the show to start included complimenting everyone's black-and-red outfits and shoes, the gal to my right showing the photo she took of Ron and Russell at the airport earlier, and the gal to my left telling us she'd kept a few sequins from Russell's green suit that she collected off the stage after a show in the 80s.

Russell came on in his black-on-red jacket, so I was matching with him, yay! So May We Start received a tremendous reaction and had Ron smiling. I did the fist pump in unison with Russell during the beat drop in The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte, and I think Ron noticed because I swear he looked straight at me afterwards. Russell had added "the good news is, it's never too late to change" to his speech preceding It Doesn't Have To Be That Way since the last time I'd seen it, and while it still didn't hit me as hard as in Manchester, I was choked up. I was probably the sole person in the audience giving them a standing ovation afterwards, but it doesn't matter--that's how much that song means to me.

My neighbor gave me a look like "wut??" but stood up so that I wasn't the only one dancing during Balls, and Russell's shirt had gone from fully-buttoned to all the way halfway open by the time I noticed. Shopping Mall Of Love had one of the best responses I've ever heard; there were cheers after every single one of Ron's lines all the way to the end of the song. I'm pretty sure Russell held eye contact with me during the final "one fleeting glance" in Escalator, I nearly died, and it was extremely fitting since it was the only time it happened, whereas it seemed like Ron was looking my direction every other time I looked at him :3

Eli was totally working the Bon Voyage solo, unfortunately that was the only moment I noticed from him because Ron was mostly blocking him from my vantage point, not to mention it's impossible to ignore Russell when he's bouncing mere yards away from your face (the front row was knees-to-the-stage so even though I was in the second row I was still VERY close). There was a really sweet moment where Russell smiled at Ron during The No. 1 Song In Heaven when he wasn't looking. Ron was pulling silly faces during his shuffle, and this time there was absolutely no mistaking it, he stared me dead in the eye during the last few seconds of it, and I flashed him a hand heart when he sat back down.

Ron rubbed his hands together like a gleeful cartoon villain before he started My Baby's Taking Me Home. Russell introduced the backing band and cheerfully said "I think that's everybody", then just waited for the crowd's reaction before saying "Oh yeah... Mr. Ron Mael" to huge cheers, and then Ron actually reached out and grabbed the mic away from Russ to introduce his brother. Russell spoke before All That, saying it was a song that was "really apt for how we all feel about all of you guys, and especially on a night like tonight", and it nearly made me cry.

They basked in the final applause for a bit, and Russell gave a cute little gesture like "aw shucks". I climbed over into the front row, waving a card that I'd made for them, but I'm not sure that Russell noticed since he didn't take it from me (and he started giving out handshakes too far over to my right so I didn't get one, sad). So I did what a girl's gotta do, after the band had left I pulled a Fairfield Halls and hopped up onto the stage, and managed to put my card on Ron's keyboard before I got kicked off. I really hope they got it...

--

I'm not exaggerating when I say that Sparks have entirely changed my outlook on life. I don't know what or when, but I know that things are going to be drastically different for me sometime soon. This album and this tour have really solidified that. It's not even a choice anymore.

I'm in a void somewhere between euphoria and despair now, still on a high from my shows but the post-tour blues have kicked in. I know I'll never be able to cling to these memories as strongly as I'd like. I've been crying from emotions I can't even name. I'm so so so grateful for getting to take part in all of this, and forever thankful that the Maels have had such an unwavering commitment to Sparks and that they're still doing what they love.

[icarian-carrion]

She doesn't want to make him cry. She's done it enough. And Daevi still knows that he would take it, every single time she did it, let her break his heart over and over, and that makes her sick to her stomach. "You know, it's my job to keep everyone happy at things like this. Keep an eye on everyone, especially the VIPs. All night, you only had one drink. I can't even say I'm all that surprised, because the kids... Russ, and Nina, they've been hanging out at my place, a lot. Complaining about how you're no fun lately." Daevi swallows hard and looks up at him, the usual height difference lessened by her towering heels and the way his head bows to look at her. "That's a pretty big change."

"No, angel, you can, it's not—" But there it was. Her hand caught his, and his heart skipped the wrong beat, sent sparling forward so fast it actually physically hurt. "Yeah, yeah, of course." Spit out in a small huff of a laugh. So sure and direct it didn't even leave room for him to have thought over the question and considered. "What's a little heartbreak when it comes to a few more moments with you?" Jack chuckled, and he couldn't much help himself. She was there, and his hands were in hers and so he did the next logical thing and he intertwined their fingers. This was the sort of contact that would feed his hungry soul for days, weeks maybe. He could make a new song out of this second and then another for every one that followed. "Emotionally I'm camped outside your place, waiting to see if anything changes so i can go knock." Jack chuckled and his heart whined: Did it? DId anything change? God, please tell me it did.

[nocivenox]

Stream announcement:

The charity stream for Sexual abuse victims on behalf of the Cryaotic fandom is set.

We are going to be livestreaming on my personal twitch account(twitch.tv/nocivenox) on July 12th, starting at 11 AM Central Standard time until about 6 or 7 pm Central Standard time. @the-sassy-sister and I will be doing a lot of games and holding a podcast mode.

We are currently setting up what games we are about to play and if you have any suggestions please let me know!

We have invited Auri to join us at any point during the stream and I will gladly let any of the LNC join if they wish or other person that was personally affected join if they wish.

I know this is a hard time for everyone and Cassie and I wanted to do our part as a community to help.

We are going to be splitting the money that is donated to both the National

Sexual Violance Resource Center and RAINN.

Please spread the word and if you have any questions or need someone to talk to my DMs are open and my discord is nocivenox#2374.

[comealongleah]

Dear Cry,

I haven’t been here in so long. I haven’t been in any tags or watched any youtube videos in so fucking long. Today I went to look for you. To see if you had played The Last of Us 2 because I wanted to show you and the game to my daughter. She’s one. Oh man, how my heart broke into tiny pieces. Seeing the way you spoke, the things you wrote, the threads, the long tweets, the evidence...Oh man.

I was about 20 when I started watching you (circa 2012/13) and I fell in love. Legit, I had this idea of you in my mind that was charming as hell, sexy as hell, adorable as hell, cute as hell. Problematic as hell. We should never put anyone on a pedestal, should we? But I think we should all thrive to be good. Do good. And I don’t even think you had/have that mentality. But I also don’t think you have the mental health for it and I think being a public figure should never have been your thing. That only gave you and your sickness a plataform to thrive. I remember reading the book All the Bright Places (now a movie, but the character in the book is much more raw) and thinking: this is cry. this is it. He has what this boy has. And I think I was partially right in thinking that. 

Ah man, I don’t even know what to say. This hits more because I have a daughter now and was a victim of a teacher who I confided in, trusted and looked up. This hit hard.

[unnatural-disasterr]

you know, listening to russ’s stream was one of the most heartbreaking things i have ever listened to. i could feel the pain in his words. fuck cry.

[calistoscraft]

Rest in piece late night, I feel for Russ, jund, snake, Chey the victims and everyone else. What cry did is disgusting and not forgivable. I’ve watched as a fan from the beginning. It’s a shock and I hope everyone who has endured the suffering can start to heal slowly with time. Fuck cry. Fuck pedophiles. And fucking being groomed. As an ex victim of being groomed by a 21 year old when I was 13-14 I can only say that time will heal those memories and scars. Thank you for the good laughs and happy memories of late night with cry and Russ.

[amarithecat]

Just found out about Cry, and I'm disappointed and appalled.

Don't get me wrong, I haven't watched or followed him in years, but Cry and the Late Night Crew were my favorite people to watch in middle school. Even after losing interest, I would catch a stream every now and then or watch a highlight video. After hearing about everything currently surrounding him + the LNC's disbandment, I've been pretty disheartened.

I just hope all of this coming to light gives the people harmed by him solace. If it doesn't, I hope they eventually get the solace they need.